


How It's Going To Be

by Merkey666



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, plz be careful when reading this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 08:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkey666/pseuds/Merkey666
Summary: It's the summer of 2005, and one too many bad things happen for Gerard.(Trigger Warning)





	How It's Going To Be

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Thoughts of suicide and suicide attempts!! 
> 
> -This can be triggering for some people and I just want to make sure everyone is safe!
> 
>  
> 
> (Also, yes, I know Geetrick is complete and utter bullshit, just let me live)

“So your brother is sick, right?” Pete asked, biting gently on Mikey’s collar bone. The other boy let out a shaky breath in return.

“We’re working through it,” he murmured, moaning and running his dirty hands through Pete’s sweaty hair. The summer scene was beautiful, playing music and dancing to it, drinking, having sex, laughter in the skies even when it was dark. Pete adored it. It was only a little bit short, he admitted. He was spending it as best he could, for he never knew if he would live to see another one.

“You don’t think he’ll, like, do anything, do you?” Pete asked quietly. He spent a lot of his time thinking about stuff like that, possibly to entertain his own dysphoria, or to try and help others where mentally fit people could not. Therapy is one thing, but talking about it to someone who knows exactly what goes on in your mind is another. That’s where Pete believed he fit in. Mikey did truly appreciate the sentiment of what Pete tried to do, although his timing was a little off in that instance. 

“Pete, you are literally inside me right now. Can this conversation wait?” Mikey hissed brutally. Pete sighed and let it out of his mind for a few minutes, letting himself enjoy what he could open-mindedly, although his brain sure had something to say about that. Up until his phone buzzed, luckily out of ear shot of Mikey. He “distracted” Mikey for a few seconds while he read the message. It kept all the things that were better off in his mind flowing out, screaming and on fire. 

“I only say that because I got a text from Patrick,” he said, turning his phone back over and releasing Mikey from his grip. 

“-And you’re texting Patrick!? You are having sex with me as we speak, and you’re just texting your best bud, Patrick?” Mikey groaned bitterly and pushed Pete off of him. Pete’s phone buzzed again, this time heard by Mikey as well, who strongly opposed everything his phone had to say at that moment. Pete grabbed his phone before Mikey could bat it away from him. He typed out a reply with one hand and pulled on his underwear with the other. 

“Mikey-” Pete began.

“We have less than a month left of tour and you’re taking me for complete granted-”

“MIKEY!” Pete shouted. Mikey shut his trap instantly, shocked, and a little scared. Pete looked up at him with wide, worried eyes, and chucked his phone across the room.

“Gerard’s in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Mikey asked weakly. That had Mikey’s attention. Pete double timed as he pulled on his jeans. Mikey yanked him back by the shoulders and forced him to look him in the eyes. 

“What kind of trouble?” Mikey asked, slowly but sternly. 

“Patrick thinks that Gee might try and hurt himself.”

~

Mikey burst onto the scene, and into the bus, mind reeling, wondering just how late was “too late”. At first, there was silence in the entry living space, allowing time for Pete to catch up. Mikey swallowed harshly, straining to hear any sounds that may succeed any humans. From the far back of the bus, past the bunks, was a muffled whimper. Mikey made a break for it, but Pete caught him by the hand. Mikey threw him off before Pete could get whatever calming words he had come up with out, and leap towards the back of the bus. 

He saw no blood as he trampled over discarded clothes and other miscellaneous items that were left in odd places, such as the hallway. No blood was a start, but that wasn’t the only way to kill oneself. Mikey knew that oh too well. Pete’s footsteps pounded behind him as he ran down the short hallway, vision blurring as he tumbled and eventually slammed into the door in the back. It was a small bedroom, but it was good for… privacy. Sat on the end of the bed was Gerard, curled up on Patrick’s lap. Patrick didn’t so much as flinch when they flung themselves in, only kept petting Gerard’s hair and whispering in his ear. 

Mikey sighed graciously as he kneeled down in front of Gerard. Patrick looked up at Pete, and nodded in finality. Gerard was okay, at least for the moment. Pete let out his own sigh of relief and collapsed against the wall. Gerard refused to look at Mikey, who was rubbing his back and speaking softly to him. Patrick leaned down and whispered something into his ear. Gerard gulped to himself and then turned to Mikey and threw his arms around him. Pete motioned for Patrick to come nearer, to which Patrick complied. Pete led the two out of the room, not before he made sure Mikey would be alright with Gee solely in his care. Mikey confirmed it would be alright. 

“Patty,” Pete began once the two were in the secrecy of a closed door. Pete could almost see the mess behind Patrick’s eyes, a mess that he hadn’t suspected. Pete put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder, watching the tears build up in his eyes. “Are you okay? I don’t really know if you know Gee that well, but-” Patrick looked up at him as the first of the tears spilled down his cheek. 

“I know him.” 

“Okay,” Pete spoke quietly. “It’s rough to have to go through that with someone, especially someone you might not know that well.” Patrick shook his head and sniffled. Pete couldn’t pinpoint what he was getting wrong. Patrick looked him in the eyes in the way that grounds someone. 

“I _know_ him.” 

“Oh.” Pete looked away, clenching his jaw. Wow. Patrick inhaled shakily, trying to keep a straight face. Pete didn’t exactly know where to go from there. 

“Then it’s especially hard to go through. Mikey talks to me about him sometimes, and I listen to him. He knows that Gerard’s getting worse,” Patrick’s lip trembled. “But he also knows that Gerard doesn’t want to die. He wants to be happy, but he feels like he can’t. The drinking and all that shit, the drugs, it’s hurting him. That’s where we need to start, including you. If he’s like that around you, you need to help. He let you in, you can do that.” Pete let his monologue drop off there, and pulled his friend into a hug. Pete didn’t let go until the door next to them slowly opened. Pete nudged Patrick gently. 

Mikey stood in the door, bleary eyed and frail. Gerard was crumpled on the bed behind him, hugging himself and staring at the floor. Mikey pursed his lips at Pete, and without saying a word, regaled how the last few minutes went for him. It wasn’t pretty. Mikey knew the lines blurred surrounding suicide, and when you cleared back the smudges it was one big vat of unhappiness and blood and poison. All things evil in the world. It is hideous. 

Pete turned to Patrick. “Patty, don’t worry about knowing him. Mikey and I know each other pretty well also. You’re not alone out here, even if we drive through uninhabited fields for hours a day. If the drive isn’t over, neither is the journey. When we stop driving we see people, and then you’re not alone anymore. If you feel alone, it’s not the end,” Pete murmured. Patrick nodded calmly. Without a word, he turned and walked back into the bedroom, passing Mikey silently. Gerard reached out for him before Patrick even sat down. An ominous breeze blew the door shut behind him, leaving Pete and Mikey in the hallway alone. Mikey, with one hand still behind his back, walked forward until it turned into a run. This all happened very quickly, as the hallway was not more than five feet in length. 

Pete caught him and the emotional load he carried with open arms. He pressed a kiss onto the side of Mikey’s head. There were rumblings from the room behind him, crying, speaking, maybe kissing, but Pete couldn’t be sure. A thought occurred to Pete as Mikey pulled away from him. 

“Mikey?” he asked gently. There wasn’t any easy way to ask something like that. Mikey looked solemnly at him. “Do you have… what he was going to… use?” Mikey, without skipping a beat, pulled his hand out from behind his back. The pieces of a disassembled razor lay upon his palm, shiny, and bloodless. Pete shuddered internally, nodding for Mikey to throw it away.

“Flush it, or something. Are there any more?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low for the sake of everyone on the bus. Mikey sucked in a sharp breath, trying to keep as much of ‘it’ together as he could. Pete leaned in brushed his nose against Mikey’s. Mikey let his eyes flicker shut, as a drawn out sigh escaped his lips. Pete refrained from leaning just the little bit closer and kissing him, until he responded.

“I’ll flush it,” Mikey replied automatedly. “And check for others.” Mikey turned away and made for the bathroom. Pete nodded and leaned against the wall, staring deeply at the door to the bedroom. Mikey passed him a few times, he thought, rushing around and looking for anything sharp. He wasn’t sure, exactly. He was busy wondering how he, and everyone else became the people they were. Children are born with mental illness, or it could develope, but what in this world forced that to happen? Sometimes it was involuntary, sure, but sometimes there were things beyond control. Wanting to be dead by twenty-one, trying to end your own life in a parking lot, alone. Using substances to try and control your mess of a life, when you know it can only make it worse. 

He thought about all of the kids who were alone. The ones who were gone, the ones who soon would be. Why did the world have to be cruel enough to kill off it’s own creations? Had humanity turned that horrid? He fell back into reality as a light emerged from room that Mikey was walking into. Pete shook off his miserable thoughts and followed him inwards. 

Gerard was still curled up in a ball on Patrick’s lap, staring blankly at whatever was put in front of him. Patrick had an arm around him tightly, keeping him comfortable and close at the same time. Mikey didn’t say anything as he dug through the piles of shit on the ground, kicking some piles, digging with his hands in the others. Patrick didn’t look up either, just kept rubbing Gerard’s back and pulling his hair out of his eyes. A little “aha” emitted from Mikey’s corner of the room, and he stood, holding a small orange bottle. Pete knew the thing all too well. 

Pete only felt the little woosh of air as Mikey ran out and returned with a glass of water. He could see the orange bottle in his brain, the little rock hard pills clenched in his fist. He watched in slow motion as Mikey helped Gerard gulp down the little things, likely antidepressants he stopped taking. Pete knew how it went. He knew Mikey did too. Gerard seemed to resist as first, but he looked Mikey dead in the eyes and saw the tears that were probably there, and drank down the whole glass along with the two pills. Those weren’t the kind you have to get your stomach pumped for, thought Pete. He tried to look away from the the little orange bottle, make the rattling stop. Stop smelling the blood that was rushing around in his body, waiting to spill like a pitcher of water. 

Then came the smell of disinfectant on steel, and the way it only sometimes covers up the blood. You can smell the sickness in the air, and you wince at all the white. It’s like some evil lair, where you can’t escape because you know what happens to you is for your own good, even if it goes against your wishes. Pete knew the feeling. He knew a lot of things at that point in his life. 

He knew how to look death in the eyes and win, and how to lose. 

Only then did he realize he wasn’t in the bus anymore. 

“Pete!” Mikey called from maybe ten feet back. Pete hit the ground, dizzy and drenched in darkness. The cement outside the bus. He rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Then there was a hand on his back and a body next to him, a person holding him, even as he threw up on the edge of the parking lot. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and manually turned his body away from the mess. Mess. God, he was still messy. 

“It’s okay, Pete. Breathe. It’s okay now,” Mikey cooed. Pete clenched his eyes shut, breathing deeply in shaky breaths that didn’t sound like they made it all the way to his lungs. He started to slip off again, drowning in the blood. An arm wrapped around his back and pulled him close to a body. A human being who cared enough to hold him, mess and all. Even when it wasn’t really about him. He opened his eyes for the first time in around five minutes, and the sunlight screamed at him. His restless heart spasmed in his chest, but he knew it was over. He didn’t want to sit up, but he wasn’t the one sitting in bed, holding onto a person for dear life, literally. 

“I’m sorry,” Pete whispered, trying to keep everything down in his throat. Bile, tears, emotions. Mikey pet his head gently and pulled him closer. 

“Don’t be sorry. I should’ve thought before I brought you in there with me. It’s damaging for healthy people, let alone us. I know what you’ve been through, and getting triggered is nothing to be ashamed of. Trust me, everyone in that bus understands. Gee will get better, and so will you,” Mikey assured him. Pete looked up at Mikey for a second, a look that Mikey caught.

“Gerard knows he has us now. You and me, and the rest of the band. Family, other friends. Bert, although I’m not sure that’s a great idea, quite frankly. And Patrick, I guess,” Mikey said, ending the sentence a little oddly. He let the words hang in the air, like he was waiting for Pete to bite the lure. Pete pursed his lips and smiled minutely up at Mikey. 

“I know,” Mikey replied. “Gerard told me while you were with Patrick in the hall. He sort of sobbed it out, and I don’t even know if he knew I heard him. It was just this…” Mikey trailed off as he looked at the sky. It was beginning to darken. “This little ‘I love him’ in the midst of tears and pain and misery. It was messy,” Mikey whispered. 

“Messy,” Pete repeated. Mikey looked down at him for a quick second, getting torn away only seconds later by the bus door opening. Patrick leaned his head out and waved them over. He straightened when he saw Pete, and glanced back into the bus. He stepped one foot out the door, as if he was testing the waters, then made a break for it.

He nearly collapsed on Pete, pestering him to see if he was alright. Pete said nothing, sitting himself up gently. Patrick put a hand on his cheek and gave him a sad smile. Mikey bit back a jealous word, and let the enormity of it hit him like a truck. 

“Gee wants you to drive him,” Patrick whispered, avoiding his eyes. Mikey looked over at him calmly. 

“Where?” Patrick clenched his jaw and looked over with teary eyes.

“The hospital. He needs to go, even just for a little bit.” Mikey was quiet and still. Pete knew Mikey knew Patrick was right. Gerard couldn’t stay out here, alone. Even around people, the open road is so very lonely. 

“I know,” Mikey whispered eventually. Pete shifted himself up, off Mikey’s lap, and away from the puddle of his own puke. Patrick took on the duty of holding him until he stopped shaking. Pete didn’t know how long that would be, but he hoped it would be less than the last time. Even with all the memories and orange pill bottles and hospital stomach pumps, there was still the banging on his door. Patrick almost broke his hand that night. Kicking the door and begging Pete not to do anything irrational. ‘Was that the word he used?’ Pete asked himself as he trembled in Patrick’s arms. Pete watched from across the street for almost an hour before Patrick broke down in tears and collapsed on his front steps. He could see it all again in Patrick’s watery eyes. 

Pete watched Mikey walk towards the bus. Mikey looked back over his shoulders and nodded kindly at Patrick before entering the bus. Pete and Patrick waited, stalk still, on the quickly cooling ground. It wasn’t more than ten minutes before the two of them walked back out, Mikey’s arms around Gerard as he struggled to walk by himself. Pete didn’t know if it was lack of caring or dizziness, but either was weakening enough to make a heart stop. Just before the two rounded the bend towards Mikey’s car, Mikey himself looked over his shoulder towards Pete. It wasn’t a smile, it was just a look. 

_Everyone around me is dying._

And then Pete began to remember all the sick kids. 

He rolled his head back on Patrick’s lap and sighed, watching the sunlight burn out. Dying is messy, he thought. People die. The car that held Mikey and Gerard drove off into the distance. The first beams of headlights shone against the pavement. 

“Pete?” Patrick asked, knowing he wouldn’t get a response. “Thank you for being there for me. I want you to know that even in the darkest night, and it looks like tonight is going to be one of those, there will always be people who hate to see you go. Especially me. No matter how awful it gets.”

“Messy,” Pete cut in.

“Right. No matter how messy it gets, there will always be people who love you,” Patrick sighed, looking at the faint stars. “Even when you don’t believe it, the truth is out there. Giving in is pointless, and I’m one of the lucky ones who know that. Life is messy, death is easy. It’s always going to be that way, Pete. That’s just how it’s going to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you couldn't tell, I wrote this while listening to How It's Going To Be on repeat because that song makes me feel,,,,,, things,,,,,
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think!


End file.
